It’s March, American
It’s that time of year
When you prove yet again
That your madness is sincere
First you exported those burgers
If that’s what you call McDonald’s
The fries almost made me a converter
But the meat looks rather intestinal
And what’s the deal with Subway?
That other place that you’ve spread
The fresh veggies are kind of okay
But is the brown thing even bread?
There’s a bunch of other stuff too
Like Walmart and, yes, KFC
The latter I would maybe pursue
If I were looking for a coronary
Then there’s this other thing
That you pushed on us years ago
No big deal, but it’s growing
And it’s odd, as far as I know
People, they bounce a ball
And throw it in a small hoop
Honestly, that’s about all
Now the world’s stuck with this gloop
I could blame it on Michael Jordan
For forcing us all to care
But it might have been a Canadian
Who invented this wretched affair
Today there are leagues on our land
And we send the best players to you
Until the Saudis improve their brand
By starting their own league too
I guess I could make do with it
If the oddness ended here
I mean, we obsess over a football pitch
Which is also a bit weird
But you, American, you never stop
With your cultural exportation
Sure, I can’t blame you for K-pop
But the marketing—you’ve shared that transgression
That gets me to my next point
About this strange March tournament
In which you worship and anoint
Kids as heroes—that’s just indulgent
Do you really expect me to watch
Teenagers playing some game?
That’s taking your ask up a notch
Especially when you shower them with fame
This is all in the name of education
Just another part of college
Listen, as a simple observation
That’s a whole lot of garbage
The organizers make a cool billion
And line their pockets with cash
As you and your little minions
Sit around and support all this trash
Then there’s the gambling
Which I guess now is legal
Where companies enjoy strangling
Workers whose habits are lethal
Oh, but there is a helpline
So it’s all totally fine
The despair can become sunshine
At least that’s the tagline
But back to the games themselves
Who even are all these teams?
Samford, McNeese, who else?
An exercise in trivia it seems
I must say you make it feel important
That is, after all, your bit
You can add this to your assortment
Of well-advertised bullsh*t
Sorry to rain on your parade
It’s what we Europeans do
The truth hurts I’m afraid
Though I know you’ll make it through
They call it March Madness
That much is true
But when it comes to real neurosis
That, American, it lies with you
Note: The author is American and enamored with college basketball.
2 Responses
your wish is fulfilled
yes you can be American again in march
yarn they, half of world’s people to be American
(enjoyed the poem).
Hahaha. Being American in March is my dream. (Thank you.)